The Gift of Inner Beauty

There are days when it's hard to look in the mirror and like what you see and that is even more so when chemotherapy wreaks havoc on your body.  I mean, I knew my hair was more than likely to fall out: the nurses and doctors at the Cancer Clinic all forewarned me. I pre-bought a wig while I still had my luscious locks of white, and I saw how full the comb was each morning during my morning routine.  But despite all the pre-warnings and prep work, it's still hard to take the stark baldness (or near-baldness in my case...I have what I endearingly call my "chemo comb-over").  I decided that humour was the best remedy for me.  I decided to write my Christmas classic, "I'll Be Bald for Christmas" (lyrics below) and opted to wear pirate kerchiefs (with big hoop earrings of course) and an assortment of hats, including my beloved Montreal Canadians ball cap in lieu of the very stylish wig (waaay to itchy!).  It didn't change the fact that I was a 49 year old bald woman, but it was manageable.

Then, the eyebrows thinned, and the eyelashes thinned and were barely noticeable even with mascara. Then the chemo puff set in (I don't know if it's officially called chemo puff, but my face gained an unsightly puffiness around the eyes, the cheekbones and under the jaw) which, when accompanied by the lack of hair, made for a very round, very chubby-looking face.  Nice.

Then the feet and hand tingling and neuropathy set in.  While this only lasted a painfully short week, it left behind peeling skin that gave my hands the appearance of a wrinkly 90 year old's hands.

All told, I have to admit that the total package hit me right in my pride.  While I wasn't exactly runway material to start with, I did have a very healthy self-esteem and took pretty good care of my appearance.  As the little things started to build, I found myself wanting to look in the mirror less, go out less, and even attempt to do the little routines (like morning mascara, cuticle and nail care, and pedi-care.  It seemed like it wasn't worth it since things were going to pot anyway.

But, just when things were starting a slippery slide into self-loathing, I caught myself and gave my head a good shake.  The old adage came back to me:  there is someone out there who has it a hell of a lot worse off than you, so count your blessings!  And it's so true.  I made a list of things that I still had  going for me and I felt a little foolish for being so vain about the little things that were happening and were more than likely short-term.  I had my appetite (many have so much nausea that they can barely eat), I had my sense of humour, I had really smooth skin on my face, I had time to pamper myself with daily workouts when possible, books to read, and time to write creatively.  Most importantly, I still had my determination to keep a positive focus on the goal of conquering my breast cancer.  I didn't need hair, thick eyelashes or brows or smooth hands to keep that focus.  And besides, the Habs are having a great season, so who wouldn't want to wear the Montreal Canadiens ball cap as much as possible?

I’ll Be Bald for Christmas

(to the tune of I’ll be Home for Christmas)

 I’ll be bald for Christmas

You can count on it;

Before you know, my head will glow,

And I might look like sh...

Christmas Eve will find me,

With chemo in my vein….

I’ll be bald for Christmas

If only I stay sane!